No Eyes Here
by nmhotel
Summary: Ichigo is losing badly to Grimmjow. When Renji shows up to help they might have a chance of surviving. But, for how long can they stand against the Espada?  This story contains Non-Con, Dub-Con, Blood. Grimmjow/Ichigo, Grimmjow/Renji, & Renji/Ichigo pairs
1. Chapter 1

_Author's Note: Hello this is my first story on and I hope everyone enjoys it. Thank you to **bundamba **and **bayrdsm **from livejournal for beta'iing my story and helping my though the process of fixing my work, without which this story would be much more confusing. Also any comments are welcome._

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The brat was exhausted, Grimmjow could tell as soon as he stepped into the human world. It was even more evident when they crossed swords, he didn't know what the kid did to get so tired, but he really didn't care. As they moved in battle he noticed scores of scratches and deeper wounds that peppered the body of the teen. Soon into the fight, his sword broke through Ichigo's weak defense scoring a deep blow across his chest, leaving him to lean on his sword to remain standing.

Usually Grimmjow would have felt disappointed in such a short-lived fight with an opponent, but any time he crossed blades with Ichigo he felt a fire that scorched him.

They were fighting in the middle of a deserted clearing outside of town that the Shinigami had lured him to. The Espada had willingly gone; privacy would be best for putting the images he had flashing in his mind to practice.

Sheathing his sword Grimmjow stalked to the immobile teen and backed handed him across the face to the ground, "Where did all your fight go Shinigami?"

Glaring at his enemy from the ground with red staining his face, the substitute remained unusually quite.

"No matter, I came here for something a little different today." The Espada kicked the other's blade from his hand, grabbed the front of Ichigo's robes, and pulled him on his feet, lowering his head down to the boy's. As he went to head butt the Espada, Grimmjow grabbed a handful of soft bright hair, provoking a pained hiss.

"Now you don't want to be doing that, we're just about to start the fun." Before the other could draw a breath, Grimmjow smashed his lips to those of the teen, his tongue forcing its way past closed lips hotly licking the front of Ichigo's teeth. Stubbornly Ichigo refused to open his jaw, denying the Espada entrance to his mouth.

With the hand that was formerly holding the front of the other's robes, Grimmjow gripped his hand around the boy's neck, watching with a teeth baring grin as Ichigo fought against the hand crushing his airway. The substitute's fingers scrabbled at the iron-like appendage squeezing his trachea closed, unable to break the surface of the Espada's skin. As soon as Grimmjow let go, Ichigo opened his mouth to gasp in desperately needed oxygen. While the Vizard was busy pulling air into his lungs, the taller man forced his fingers between the back of his teeth keeping the Shinigami's jaw pried open.

Obstacle removed, the Espada forced his tongue into Ichigo's mouth, possessively exploring every nook and cranny of the intimate space. At first Ichigo fought against the hot slick muscle probing one of the few places his body had not been battle hardened, but the lack of air made his movements sluggish and weak.

Engrossed in his prey, Grimmjow failed to notice the spiritual pressure growing closer, and was taken off guard by the flash of red fire that forced him away from Ichigo. Suddenly there was an odd looking snake made of bone-like fragments wrapped around the boy, who had fallen to the ground without the Espada holding him up.

A man in Shinigami robes, with fur gathered over his shoulders stood holding the end of the snake. Tasting the spiritual pressure on the air, Grimmjow recognized it as belonging to the man that defeated one of his Fracción. The badge on his arm marked him as a lieutenant, but he had near captain level strength. To bad for the other man, that small amount of fighting power would not be enough to defeat him

His power held an interestingly wild edge to it, smelling like the jungle, humid and musky. Ichigo also had that same wildness to his scent, but it tasted more like the air before a storm, all electricity and building power. Something about the lieutenant's scent pulled at the primal part of his hollow side, making the predator in him purr.

"Get away from him Espada." The voice was calm and deep, but underneath the surface Grimmjow could feel the rage that the man was holding back.

"Why? It's not like you can do anything about it." As he spoke Grimmjow let a cero build in the palm of his hand.

Waiting, Grimmjow expected the Shinigami to throw himself at the Espada, ensuring a quick and unavoidable death. If he hadn't already known that the man had already battled one of his Fracción, an enemy that had severely outclassed him, the Arrancar would have thought that he would try to flee. Grimmjow internally snorted, not that the Soul Reaper could hope to outpace Grimmjow.

Something desperate flashed in the red head's eyes, but it was quickly gone, replaced by a calculating look.

As he watched the man in front of him changed, his stance turned from one poised on the knife's edge of battle to something more relaxed, and… The Espada looked on in disbelief as the soul reaper began to radiate planned seduction.

Living under the same roof as Aizen and his fellow Espada prepared Grimmjow for the change and he smiled as he realized the man's new tactic to save his comrade.

"I'll do anything you want me to." The voice came out in the low purr of a seasoned whore, a sharp shock from the authoritative tone that the man spoke in before.

Grimmjow took in the aesthetic side of the Shinigami in front of him; bound hair and bold lines that marked his visible flesh were the most notable parts of his appearance. The soul reaper's sword had curled tighter around his original plan and let out a low growl. Almost against his will Grimmjow found himself intrigued by the offer, he let the cero dissipate. He could always come back and find the brat latter.

"No!" A raw voice echoed from the slightly moving enclosure. "Run, Renji. I'll be fin…" A rough cough cut across the first words that Ichigo had spoken other than the beginning battle exchanges and the occasional howl of his attack. Grimmjow couldn't see the other but he smelt the fresh blood that still lingered on the breeze, and he knew that despite his words the kid would be unable to fight whatever decision was made.

"You're in no shape to fight kid, let me deal with this." The man used a tone that brokered no argument, and surprisingly the Vizard didn't respond.

The desperate plea and adamant rebuttal decided Grimmjow's mind. There was something about how the two interacted that interested he Sexta Espada, in Hueco Mundo he had never seen such a thing. In battle every Arrancar, despite some appearances of cooperation, Grimmjow knew that no matter what was said or done, ultimately they all fought for themselves.

Self-sacrifice was something that he saw among the ranks of the humans and Shinigami, he could observe it, use it to calculate his opponent's moves, but he didn't understand it. His curious nature rose and made him accept the offer.

Staring at the man in front of him Grimmjow smirked, "Well then. Strip."

If the other man was surprised by his request he didn't show it, on the other hand a sound of rage could be heard from the cocoon of bone, "Renji! Stop it, fucking run!"

Grimmjow could hear more wet coughs follow the outburst. Without looking away from Grimmjow the other man, Renji he now knew, replied, "Shut up ya idiot!" In a softer tone Renji continued, "Just ignore whatever you might hear Ichigo, we'll both be fine."

A small sound of despair was made when the substitute realized exactly how hopeless the situation was.

Finished speaking, the Shinigami laid down his sword, and Grimmjow was surprised to see the weapon curl tighter around the human soul reaper, the end disappearing into its writhing mass. Renji glanced at where Ichigo was no longer visible, then looked to the Espada and started to economically undress. There was no hesitation or embarrassment shown on the soul reaper's face or in the stance of his body.

The fiery lieutenant's obedience fed his arousal even more than his hard body or the sultry tone he had addressed the Espada with.

"Be grateful your friend here looks so nice soul reaper, or you might be the one about to be fucked." Grimmjow licked his lips as more flesh was revealed.

Calmly Renji spoke, "Ignore him Ichigo, he just wants a reaction."

With terrifying composure the Arrancar slammed the red headed man against the ground, causing him to let out a grunt of pain. A low growl sounded off to his side, and at first Grimmjow thought it came from the man's sword, but he realized the hidden male had made it.

The blue-headed man briefly placed his mouth next to the soul reaper's ear, and spoke in a low voice, "I don't doubt I'll be getting a reaction. From both of you." Pointedly looking at the spot when small sounds of distressed rage and helplessness could be heard, the Espada looked back at man below him whose eyes also darted to Ichigo's location.

Stepping back, he watched as the dazed and almost nude man wordlessly stood back up to finish undressing, Grimmjow let a grin bare his teeth as his eyes traced blood trickling down the soul reaper's temple.

Bold black lines, sharply angled, weaved their way over toned muscle, and, as the soul reaper removed the rest of his clothes, the Sexta Espada could see a grace that the man's attitude didn't betray. Not a bad catch on his part, not at all.

The man's hair was still bound. That wouldn't do. Grimmjow wanted to see the lieutenant completely undone, wild, and at his mercy leaving any part of him tied up was not acceptable. "Let down your hair too."

Interestingly, his hands hesitated at that simple bit of leather, when they didn't as he had undone his loincloth. Internally, the Espada grinned, his instincts were never wrong. As the tie was undone, long red hair flowed down over his shoulders and briefly covered part of Renji's face before he automatically swept it back.

The soul reaper stood with his hands at his side waiting for the next order. Grimmjow slowly stalked towards the man, and noticed that he remained unresponsive. With hot heat that had been burning in the bottom of his stomach since he stepped foot into the human world the Espada slid up to Renji determined to change the red head's indifferent state.

Letting his hand run through the long thick hair, the Espada pressed his lips against the Shinigami's. Unlike with Ichigo, he just pressed his lips firmly to the other man's. Renji responding in turn moved his slightly chapped lips against the Arrancar's. Feeling the soul reaper's response, Grimmjow let his grip on the slightly soft strands tighten, drawing a low moan from the red head.

Vibrations from the sound pressed against his lips and the Sexta Espada ran his tongue along the seam of the lips against his. With little hesitation they parted and let the male invade the Shinigami's mouth.

Knowing what the other expected of him, Renji let the other claim and dominate the usually brash orifice. Grimmjow let his other hand slip around the tight waist in front of him as he pushed the tattooed man into a more intense kiss. The Espada pulled the well-muscled body against his own, grinding his still clothed form against the bared one before him, mimicking the rutting of their tongues.

Using his free hand, Grimmjow slide the appendage down the long line of hardened muscle to the lieutenant's cock, he smirked into the kiss when he realized it had already started to respond to his ministrations.

Pulling away from the kiss he looked at the flushed face in front of him, "You're enjoying this aren't you? Why did you really offer yourself up today?"

The Espada not really needing an answer roughly encircled the Shinigami and squeezed, cutting off whatever reply the man might have had. The simmering lust that had been running through his veins became a rolling boil as he felt Renji buck into his hand.

Uneven breathing from behind him told Grimmjow that Ichigo had not fallen unconscious yet. He still yearned to feel the human beneath him, bloody, enraged, and caught up too much in desire to do anything about it; this was the next best thing. The substitute was being forced to witnesses how his own weakness would lead to his enemy taking his comrade.

Time was short, the Espada knew that the rest of the town's protectors would eventually defeat the Arrancar he had sent as distraction, and so he slammed the Shinigami to a nearby tree.

With one hand Grimmjow loosened the fabric holding his hakama up and let it drop to the ground. To keep the other male pinned face first to the tree, the hollow kept one hand on his neck.

"I would like to spend more time with such an obscene body, especially with such an attentive audience. But I don't think we have enough time to play, so spread your legs like a good little whore."

No response other than the quick obeying of the commandment and bracing himself against the tree with his arms came from the red head. When Renji turned his head to look behind him towards the Sexta Espada, he noticed that eyes that had been fiery when he confronted Grimmjow were fogged with lust and held a dullness that signaled mental escape.

His sadistic nature noticed that this wouldn't do. In a low voice that could only be heard by the lieutenant, Grimmjow leant against the back in front of him and spoke into the Shinigami's ear, "It seems like you've done this before. Is this how you got to be a lieutenant, did you lie on your back for your captain? Did he give you your position so that he could have a pretty fuck toy on call?"

Anger sparked into Renji's eyes, but he still refused to speak. Wanting something more defeated, the Espada was still pleased that the other man still retained feeling. Unsheathing his sword Grimmjow cut a long wound on the other back. For a moment the sight of rich blood running down the furrow that the spine created transfixed the hollow.

The red head flinched and gasped lightly as he was cut, but refused to respond further, the Espada was finding himself impressed despite himself.

Leaning down Grimmjow licked the curve of the soul reapers spine with broad strokes of his tongue, sampling the coppery taste and feeling a jolt of arousal spike in his veins as he heard a muffled moan from the Shinigami.

Tearing himself away from the intoxicating taste, the Espada gathered the freely flowing blood and slicked his painfully hard cock. Using more of the crimson liquid he roughly prepared the Shinigami.

Not wanting to waste any more time, Grimmjow slammed into the tight passage of the man in front of him. A scream tore its way out of the soul reaper's throat.

"You bastard!" Dull thumping sounds were heard where, surprisingly, Ichigo was still hidden by Renji's sword.

Ichigo's rage, the sounds from Renji, and the smooth pressure on his cock almost made Grimmjow come before he even started.

"Ichigo calm down. For me." Pain and worry replaced the authority that had echoed in the lieutenant's voice only minutes ago, and Ichigo's only response was to stop beating on his temporary cage.

Trust and self-sacrifice were once again evident, curiosity flitted across the Espada's mind but the hot and feral man under him moved his hips burning all thoughts not related to their coupling from his brain.

"Are we going to do this or are you just going to stand around all day." While still pained, the Shinigami's tone now also held a mocking quality to it.

Like the human's eyes, the sound of the lieutenant brought forth Grimmjow's need to defeat his prey.

Without reply the hollow set a vicious pace, slamming into the red head hard enough, that he knew his bones would leave bruises on the Shinigami's flesh. No time for finesse, Grimmjow searched for the sensitive tissue that would make the other, no matter how unwilling, feel pleasure.

If he hadn't been paying attention, the Espada would have easily missed Renji's reaction. No sound escaped the soul reaper when he first hit it, but the slight tensing of his body gave him away.

The rough way that the Arrancar was fucking into the hard Shinigami body would kill most humans and other creatures with low spiritual pressure, but he knew that the red head would be able to take it. In an attempt to make sure that the Espada would not underestimate their opponents, or whatever was Aizen's convoluted plan that day, they were told that Shinigami like the Arrancar learned how to be able to do anything while in pain, the Sexta Espada assumed that included feeling pleasure.

Grimmjow didn't command Renji to let loose the noises that were now more from pleasure than pain, they would just be that much sweeter when they were unwillingly released.

Arousal and the scent of slightly increased spiritual pressure broke through the smell of blood hanging around the lieutenant. One hand that was gripping the red head's hip in a tight grip loosened and slid to grab the Shinigami's cock. Fingering the hard flesh Grimmjow felt the slickness of pre-cum.

The Arrancar breathed down the back of the lieutenant's neck, "Oh you like this don't you? I can feel how wet you are for me."

With no response Grimmjow set himself to rhythmically sliding his fist up and down Renji's cock and he thrust deeply into his body. Twin pleasure of being fucked and having a large warm hand around his cock resulted in Renji no longer being able to hold back the noise of his pleasure, despite his torn and bloody lips that he had bitten in a desperate bid to remain silent.

As he started to match the rhythm of his two motions Grimmjow heard Renji let a low moan escape his lips, and the Espada purred.

Loudly the Arrancar spoke over the noises that Renji produced, "You're such a dirty freak. You like having your enemy fuck you so hard you bleed? You can't defend anyone. Someone who is as weak as you is only good for a fuck."

"Renji… You're not weak." Ichigo's voice was softer than Grimmjow had ever heard it, and he knew that the other noticed the difference when he tightened under him, causing the Espada to grit his teeth from coming right there.

Once again lowering his voice the blue headed man let the final phase of his quickly hewn plan fall into place, "I know how you feel about that human over there, you love him don't you? Do you really think he'll want anything to do with you knowing what a slut you are? He'll be disgusted every time he looks at you. He will only be able to think about what I did to you while he listened."

Renji's shoulders slumped; Grimmjow could feel him giving up.

Victory.

Pleasure tore at his flesh, like the teeth of a wild animal mauling its prey, and with the knowledge of the Shinigami's defeat Grimmjow came, roaring his release into the dark.

The Espada knew his job wasn't done for the night, without pause he kept up the punishing strokes on the lieutenant's cock. Nuzzling the neck in front of him, Grimmjow slowly licked the lines of the tattoos there.

Letting go of the others cock, the Espada brought his hand to the red head's chest scratching and tracing the hard planes of inked muscle there. The other sword callused hand came to rest around Renji's neck.

Grimmjow could feel the Shinigami's impending orgasm. "Jerk yourself off." Hesitation resounded in the other man's frame, "Do you want me to go over and get the human?"

Currents of lust twisted in his nerve endings as he watched Renji quickly obey his command. That untamed spirit pressure that surrounded the man increased as he neared completion, as it only can during the fiercest of orgasms.

Choked moans and pants were breathed into the air in front of the Shinigami. Purring, Grimmjow remained leaning against the other man, "That's right, come screaming my name."

Renji opened his mouth, and in the same instance the air around them turned the color of fire. "**Hadō #31**!"

Blaming his recent release and still sheathed in the red head, Grimmjow didn't have time to protect himself from the blast. Even with his protective Hierro he could feel the searing pain of the fire as it burned across his front.

Flying through the air he heard the lieutenant hoarsely cry out, "Now Ichigo!"

The world seemed to move in slow motion, Grimmjow looked to where Ichigo had been protected. Renji's sword was no longer wrapped around the human; instead a simple katana lay on the ground in front of Ichigo. The human's eyes were black with golden irises, his expression was furious, blood trickled from a panting mouth, and for the briefest moment Ichigo's spirit pressure swept appearance, sword raised, caused a glimmer of fear to make its presence known in Grimmjow's mind.

Ichigo, with a rasping cry let his blade drop, "Getsuga Tenshō."

Before, Ichigo's attacks had always tasted of a storm, but now Grimmjow felt like he was struck by the raw energy of lightening, compared to the gale that was the human's former attacks. Energy shot through him, every nerve was hyper aware and buzzing from what he eventually categorized as pain, and for an agony filled second the Sexta Espada thought that he was done for.

Crumpling against some trees, the Arrancar felt the substitute's spiritual pressure collapse. While he had only come for Ichigo the other Shinigami provided to be interesting as well. His spirit pressure's taste wasn't just for show; he was just as crafty as the wild creature hinted.

Pulling himself to his feet, he headed to the clearing he was thrown out of. About to reach the tree break he finally felt the presence of the town's other protectors.

Grimmjow hesitated. There would be no better time to grab the two; while they were both so close to unconsciousness. He didn't know when Aizen would let him come back to the human world to keep the Shinigami distracted, but he was severely injured, and he would never say aloud, that he was not in any shape to battle the town's substantial defense.

Making up his mind the Espada ripped open a Garganta. Stepping through the torn dimensions he let his awareness spread over the two feral spiritual pressures. Despite the deep cuts and burns that covered his body Grimmjow smiled, while the red headed man's desperate stall had worked for now he would be back soon for Ichigo, and his soul reaper comrade.

**TBC**


	2. Chapter 2

_Authors Note: I tend to be a slow updater, sorry about the wait. Additional warnings for this chapter include past refrences to child abuse. Hope you enjoy!_

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Cold air cut like knives as they ran towards the flare of energy, even the least tactical among them saw the attack of failed Arrancars upon the schools of the town for what it was. A distraction.

Urahara lead the group of Shinigami and humans, the feeling to close to that of his former days as captain to be comfortable. No words were spoken as they ran; automatically they broke into groups to surround the area doused in residual spirit pressure.

The small band of Vizards were also nearing the area from their own diversion, but they hung back, unwilling to meet Shinigami unless necessary.

Suddenly the group stopped as they saw the two bodies, bloody and unconscious, splayed out on the grass. With experienced efficiency they gathered the two soul reapers, and swiftly began their journey back to the shoten.

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Early on they had learned to stay together. One kid could be easily snatched or attacked. In a group people were less likely to mess with the skinny children that looked more like a rangy pack of coyotes than defenseless kids.

Renji almost obsessively counted their numbers, making sure that no one had strayed. He had heard the tales of his district told in frightening detail by the few older children late at night and seen the rest in the harsh light of day. He couldn't protect everyone he met, but that didn't mean he couldn't try.

In the dusty shack, their temporary shelter, Renji noticed that one of the boys closest to his age in appearance was missing. Saburo had followed him around like he was afraid to let Renji out of his sight, so he was instinctively worried when he couldn't find the boy with him in the shelter.

Suddenly he found himself on the nighttime street of his district, during the day dust coated his tongue and stuffed his nose, but at night the streets became busier and they were swamped with the scents and sounds of sake.

It felt like gravity had increased its hold tenfold on his body, he was frozen in place for what he saw next. Grey thin hair covered the head of the man dragging Saburo down the street. As they grew closer Renji finally was able to shake off his paralysis and run to his friend.

Tear tracks were etched into dirty cheeks, but the boy's face lifted when he saw Renji. Holding a finger to his lips Renji motioned for him to be quiet. Luckily the man was more interested in looking at the windows of the shacks than the road they lined.

Out from his robe Renji pulled a sharp broken piece of pottery he had found on the ground, he had picked it up thinking it would be perfect to skin the fish that they sometimes caught. As he made to pass by the man he jabbed the shard towards the man's leg.

To his horror the balding man grabbed his wrist, "Don't think I didn't know you were there boy."

With casual cruelty the man crushed Renji's thin wrist in his hand until he dropped the piece of pottery. Gritting his teeth to keep from crying out he looked to his friend then to the man.

Noting the frightened but untouched state of his friend, Renji knew that there was only one other thing that the man would do. From what others told him it was worse than the beatings they took if they got caught stealing or upset an adult.

Renji had taken beatings for others before, smaller kids who couldn't run away fast enough or those weaker than himself, he would take this punishment too.

"If I wasn't so busy I would knock some sense into you, but me and my son have somewhere to be." Renji was flung against the wall of a nearby building as the man finished talking.

Standing Renji looked at the desperate face of the boy that looked up to him. Once again he felt like his body was out of his control as he uttered the words that would lead to a type of pain he never understood before, "I can go with you instead."

Renji kept his eyes trained on the ground afraid to look at the man, he knew if he screamed no one would help them, so he waited for the man to reply.

"You cry?" The man looked at him contemplatively.

Nervously fisting his hands at his sides he replied, "No, I never cry."

Seemingly talking to himself, the man muttered, "This one cries to much, it's annoying. That red hair is really something…"

"Come here." The man gestured at Renji.

Feeling like he could no longer control his limbs he walked towards the man who suddenly grabbed his wrist again.

He kicked Saburo away, "Get out of here."

Running for a little bit the kid stopped and looked at Renji, he gestured him to go and gave a false smile. The younger kid took off. With growing horror Renji found himself being drawn towards a non-descript shack.

"Abarai."

Panic griped his stomach, and he felt like he was going to throw up.

"Abarai!"

Who was calling his name, was someone looking for him?

"Freeloader!"

Renji blinked his eyes beadily as he woke up.

Shaggy blond hair under a stripped hat greeted him as he dragged himself from his mind. Urahara straightened his kneeling posture when he noticed that Renji was finally awake.

Silence weighted heavily in the room while the lieutenant sat, surprised that only bone deep stiffness and exhaustion hindered his movement. Raising a tattooed eyebrow he looked to the shopkeeper.

Tracing the top of his cane, Urahara responded to the unasked question, "I was able to heal you myself, luckily your wounds were those I could treat."

Internally Renji sighed, he was glad that no one else saw what had happened to his body.

Warm spiritual pressure had curled around him since he gained consciousness; Renji always equated the feeling to a summertime breeze. Tension held in the back of his mind dissipated; the enormous, but for the moment calm, pressure could only belong to one person.

"I take it Ichigo's ok." Renji looked as his hands, they were curled into fists like that night long ago.

Urahara's hand held the top of his hat, "He's sleeping for the moment. His training, the fight, and Orihime's healing has taken a lot of energy out of him, but he'll be fully recovered soon enough."

The word physically wasn't spoken aloud, but it was heard all the same.

When Renji looked up at the older man he saw the lines that were etched into the young looking face. Sometimes with Urahara's façade he forgot that he too had his life torn asunder by Aizen.

"Abarai, whatever you need, I'll do my best to help." Renji eyes widened, showing his surprise for a moment.

Uncomfortable with the knowing gaze, Renji light heartedly responded, "You could start by not calling me a freeloader."

In an instant the serious look on the face beside him disappeared, "Ah… I don't know what you are talking about Abarai. I would never be so disrespectful to a lieutenant of the thirteen court guard squads."

Exhaustion still weighed down his limbs and Renji tried, unsuccessfully, to contain a yawn. Urahara flipped open his ever-present fan.

"Now, now Abarai I think it's time you got some rest, I wouldn't want to anger Captain Unohana."

Nodding sleepily, Renji repressed a shudder. He was in the human world, but that didn't protect him from her all seeing medical gaze.

As Renji laid back down Urahara rose, gave a short bow, and left the room.

Falling asleep, Renji was once more pulled back into dreams of his past where the plain black hair and constant nervous smile of Saburo was replaced by bright orange locks and a scowl.

Urahara looked at the recently closed door. Letting his smile drop, his features almost morphed into a frown, the erratic spiritual pressure forming behind the door was a sure indicator of nightmares.

Moving to check on his other patient, Urahara noticed a lanky body occupying the doorway.

"I'm surprised to see you here." The shopkeeper looked over his fellow fugitive, noting the dark circles and the deep frown that had taken the place of a usually wide grin.

"You shouldn't be." The Vizard refused to look from the still form to the other man.

He considered continuing his front of a shopkeeper, long removed from the serious feelings of worry and regret. But Urahara knew that Shinji was one of the few people that would never be fooled by his act, rendering it pointless.

Before Urahara could pick up the conversation again, the other man spoke, "That Arrancar wasn't here to kill Ichigo."

The former 12th division captain remained silent; Shinji's deduction was obvious to the more experienced soul reapers. Spirit pressure had flooded the area surrounding the two unconscious males, but the Vizards and the soul reapers of the Shoten knew that it was only tinted with the intent to kill. Underneath the recent struggle had laid a different objective.

"What are we going to do?" Shinji finally meets Urahara's gaze, his expression had been, like Urahara's, numbed into a mask of light heartedness, but now it reflected fury and fear.

The shopkeeper knew that Shinji, who rarely let anyone close to his family forged from Aizen's betrayal, had immediately accepted Ichigo. If both the Vizards and he were not careful, Urahara could admit to himself; the emotions running high would ruin any chance of defeating Aizen and ending his far-reaching brand of evil.

"We will do what we have been doing. What we must." The shopkeeper looked to his student as he spoke and felt a crushing guilt for ruining his innocence by dragging him into this war.

With smothered anger hanging around his frame, the lanky ex-captain flashed out of the shop.

Urahara walked closer to the occupant of the room, by the other exile's spirit pressure he could sense that he hadn't traveled far, and would most likely stay close by until Ichigo woke up.

Standing over the sleeping figure, Urahara briefly imagined that he could feel Benihime slicing through the flesh of the creature that so cruelly hurt the two men now under his care.

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Ichigo left for the Vizard's warehouse as soon as he woke. The fan wielding man tried to make him stay but Ichigo was desperate to get away from Renji, the reminder of his utter failure. Urahara didn't have the heart to make him remain in his bed, he was satisfied that the Vizards would keep a close watch on him.

His lack of spirit pressure before had made him feel like he stepped into a frozen morning bare and without clothes; its return was like the comfort of a roaring fire during the cool midnight hours.

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Shinji had wanted him to work on his fighting technique and to further expand his tactical usage, something that the human soul reaper had never really focused on. In order to keep him from relying on his spirit pressure when fighting his fellow Vizards, the former captain had Hachi perform a Kidō on him that would absorb some of his immense power.

The process had exhausted him, but he grudgingly admitted that Shinji was right, without having so much of his focus on spirit pressure he could better improve his sword fighting and hand-to-hand techniques. While sparing with the other Vizard he was ashamed at how difficult combat was without his reserves of spirit pressure.

Time had passed in a blur between the Vizards leaving to help kill the numerous unfinished Arrancar that had flooded the town, Shinji warning Ichigo to stay behind because of his fatigued state, and the appearance of Grimmjow's spirit pressure far away from the warring Soul Reaper and hollows.

Hurriedly, Ichigo tried to block the rest of the night from his mind but the effort was futile. As he raced across the rooftops of his town he remembered his exhaustion when he faced the grinning Espada and the horrific turn of events that had progressed through the night.

One thing had kept him losing his life or mind; Renji's Zanpakutō had not only protected him from the Espada, but had spoken to him. Two voices had echoed around him while he lay motionless and exhausted on the ground; they had conveyed Renji's plan, a desperate bid to keep him safe and the lieutenant from being killed on sight. The sounds coming from outside of Zabimaru had driven him to desperation, but the sword spirit had kept him from losing control, reminding him that Renji was relying on Ichigo to wait for his signal.

As he neared the warehouse the promise of an upcoming battle allowed him to distance himself from his memories. Scowling, Ichigo dropped down onto the Vizard's temporary home with his sword unsheathed, giving the group no time to deny his need for battle and distraction.

* * *

Luckily for the tattooed man, dreams of his past tapered off to a pleasantly blank slumber, in no small part thanks to Urahara's various experiments. When Renji once more reached consciousness, the exhaustion that had plagued him was gone and was replaced by the need to eat and take a hot bath.

Sadly for Renji those needs would have to wait a while to be sated. Rukia sat beside his futon, wearing a worried look that had never meant well for the lieutenant.

TBC


	3. Chapter 3

_Author's Note: Sorry again for the long time between updates, I'm terrible about it. Thanks for all the reviews I've gotten so far, I really love any feed back you want to give. Anyways, here's the story-

* * *

_

Renji shifted uncomfortably in his bed, out of all the people he knew Rukia would be the one to ask him questions he would rather not answer. They had known each other for so long that he really couldn't hide anything from her, at least not anymore.

"What happened?" Her gaze was piercing and stern, Renji was briefly reminded of her adoptive brother and felt a familiar glimmer of regret that he had missed his friend's transformation from a street rat to noble.

Without answering her question Renji spoke, "Where is Ichigo?"

Rukia's glare softened slightly, "He's training, again. Now answer my question."

"It was just a fight against some bastard Arrancar." The red head looked at the mats his futon was laid on and fruitlessly hoped that Rukia had asked the last of her questions. Renji felt an overwhelming urge to see Ichigo, and he was fearful of the answers that Rukia was demanding.

"If that was the case, you should be dead." The petite woman's expression was tight, giving no quarter as she waited for the truth.

Renji closed his eyes, he remembered exactly how close to death she had been, by the hand of that same Arrancar.

"Rukia, don't you have any faith in my abilities as a lieutenant?" Renji's smile was strained and false.

"Ichigo was very nearly dead from loss of blood and his low spirit pressure levels. If his spirit pressure was depleted then you should have had none."

Renji frowned at her, the insult wasn't intentional, he knew, but nonetheless it pricked something deep within him.

Rukia looked unimpressed at his scowl, reminiscent of another bright-headed Soul Reaper, and continued, "I need to know."

A sinking feeling spread through his gut, he knew that she guessed what had happened. Even in childhood she would do no more than playfully argue over things that were of little importance.

Hoping she would stop asking if he acknowledged the question, he looked to her, "Why do you need to know?"

Rukia ran her hand down the sheath of Sode no Shirayuki, a nervous habit. It was something that Renji had never noticed before and he wondered what other things he had missed seeing as she grew into her own as a warrior.

"Do you remember that winter when we were kids? It was right after Atsushi died and it was so cold people were freezing to death in town." Her voice was strained and he knew that the past often carried painful memories for her too.

The taller Shinigami remembered he had been desperate to make sure that no one else in his makeshift family would be lost to the harsh nature of their home. Charcoal was rare and blankets were hard to come by, leaving the residents of Inuzuri exposed to the harsh and deadly weather.

Again, Renji found himself slipping into memories that had lain unexamined for so long, and wished that he would stop reliving the traumas of his childhood.

Sometime stealing things for their survival became impossible. While the people that lived in Inuzuri would not starve without food or die without water, the harsh winter brought a terrible truth with her, like the humans that they had been the paralyzing cold could also take their lives.

Items that could fight against the prospect of a winter death were guarded much more reverently than food and clean water. Murder for things like sake or food, while not unheard of, was rare, but often times people were brutally killed for the very things they had wished to save their lives with.

His new understanding of the long looks that men sometimes gave their group caused Renji to pay more attention to the uneasiness he felt around such individuals and he made sure that one of their numbers had not been taken or that the group itself was not being followed.

As the nights got colder Renji grew more desperate in finding ways to keep his friends alive. He now often conversed with those that had lived longer in his district. He felt older now and the squabbling of his friends often angered him, leading Renji to find those that shared more in his mindset.

At time these older children would talk about exchanging their bodies for desperately needed items or healing. Now that he knew the cost of such things he swore never to find himself in those situations. Ways of sheltering his friends became limited and he slowly started to eye the idea, instead of immediately dismissing it like he used to.

Then one morning rose upon a little girl with long black hair and startling green eyes, dead. She had accidently rolled away from the group, huddled together to keep warm, and frozen only feet away from the others.

With guilt weighing his frame the redheaded boy lost the second part of his innocence, given once more to protect those he cared for.

He only had to sneak out from under his group's watchful gaze a few times that winter, and with the coal and blankets he had been given no one else had died from those cold nights.

Sadly, the lieutenant knew that was not the last time he was forced to protect his friends in that manner, but it had been the first.

Seeing pain and distance reflected in her best friend's eyes Rukia felt her heart ache. As much as she hated to bring up such painful reminders of their shared past she needed Renji to know that he could trust her.

"I knew Renji. I knew what you did then to help us live, and I know what you did now to protect Ichigo."

Renji waited for the word to come from Rukia, the ending of their newly reborn friendship, some quoted rule about the duties of nobility, but the dreaded reaction never came.

"I will always be here for you Renji. If you need to talk about anything, do anything, please let me know." Looking up, the lieutenant felt his heart lighten in relief, the Rukia he once knew would have never left for such a thing, but Reni was happy to know that her grown counterpart acted the same.

While he was glad that his friend had no desire to abandon him, the primary feelings that spread through his veins at the though of relaying such experiences to another were humiliation and grief.

"Rukia thanks, but right now I really don't want to talk about it." Seeing the petite Soul Reaper's face fall he hurriedly added, "But, if I ever feel that I do, you will know."

Rukia smiled softly and briefly hugged Renji, he automatically tensed before his body noticed the familiar scent and relaxed. Pulling back from the embrace the black haired Soul Reaper's face morphed into a frown, "Renji! You need to bathe. There is no way you will report to my brother in such a state!"

Smiling Renji let Rukia lead him to the bathroom giving him stern directions on how to make himself look presentable enough to report to his captain.

Now that he had dealt with Rukia's concern, the tattooed man's mind once again circled thoughts of Ichigo. The need to see the broody Soul Reaper swarmed his being. Renji knew that the person to ask were the substitute had disappeared to would be Urahara. The lieutenant guessed that there were few things that escaped the shopkeeper's notice in this town.

* * *

He arched towards the man, trying to buck the restrictive body above him. His limbs were long, and there was a delicate look to his wrists and fingers as they struggled against Grimmjow's broader hands. That delicate, almost brittle look was a lie. The Arrancar was barely able to press the other down, his muscles were screaming and from one moment to the next the Espada didn't know if he would still be holding the human.

Blue hair, usually spiked up, was clinging to his face that was soaked in sweat. A few short locks were hanging, swinging back and forth as the two males struggled. His body was much larger than his opponent's; large fingers, a broad chest, and long powerful legs dwarfed the other's anatomy, but this fact only seemed to give Grimmjow the slightest of edges.

Hate and fury burned in Ichigo's eyes as he looked up to the other.

"I'll kill you."

There was no hesitation coloring this statement and no embroidered insult followed it. It was a statement of fact, and that detail infuriated the other like nothing else could.

Snarling, Grimmjow was enraged, and with his hands occupied he instinctively used his teeth to mark his prey. Blood welled in his mouth, the slick coppery substance only served to feed his desire further.

A slight gasp accompanied the sharp teeth's piercing movement, a sound that would have been unheard if the Espada's head wasn't inches away from the lips producing the noise. The utterance cooled his rage and he softly licked the wound on Ichigo's shoulder.

How the Espada tied the human's wrists above his head with Reiatsu suppressing rope was blurry in his own mind, all his thoughts registered were that his hands had been freed to play with their prey.

Ichigo was bare beneath his touch, his body marked with fresh wounds, some that Grimmjow was sure he inflicted, and old scars. His hands slid over the smaller, but well muscled torso beneath him feeling muscles flex as the human continued to try to free himself from the restraints. As he traced raised flesh and scraped his nails down unmarked patches of skin the Espada felt Ichigo's cock harden. After examining his chest the Arrancar's hands reached the human's neck and loosely wrapped around his throat.

Having tuned out Ichigo's detailed and vehement threats after biting him, the Arrancar was surprised when he found that the only sounds being made in the room were the Soul Reaper's and his heavy breathing. Grimmjow looked down to his long digits the easily encircling the vulnerable neck of his prey and tightened them. His action was followed by the orange-headed male's instinctive shiver.

The grip didn't cut off the other's breathing or blood flow, but it was a reminder of Grimmjow's dominance over the human. The Espada took in the fierce expression below him, bright blue eyes eagerly drinking in the small details of his prey's face.

No matter where he tried to stare, his gaze was drawn to the brightly lit eyes of the Soul Reaper. If Grimmjow could summarize his fascination with the human into one aspect of the other, it would be his eyes.

Nothing in Hueco Mundo burned, even the bodies of fallen hollows, blasted by a cero, would only smolder for a short time before dissolving into the sand that had housed them. But those eyes, they burned. The moon with it's reflected light couldn't describe their heat; they more closely resembled that bright ball of fire in the human's sky.

He hated this cold desert, Aizen and his damn Shinigami's icy glares, and the frozen fire of his fellow Espada. When it became too much, when he felt like blasting that false fire out of the sky, he remembered those taunting, challenging eyes.

Every time he looked into the other's burnished copper eyes it was like wax had been dripped on his spine; each glance and stare became another tilt of the candle until Grimmjow was the one burning, almost painfully, under the heat of that gaze.

The blue-headed Espada has been hard ever since he had Ichigo pressed into his bed, but now his lust felt almost painful and breaking their eye contact he ground down onto the other for relief. A deep moan sounded under him, Ichigo's eyes were defiant but his mouth was slightly open as he panted and his face had a red tint.

"I'm going to run my Zanpakutō through you so many times…" Ichigo broke off as Grimmjow ground full body against him, his mask leaving angry welts on the Vizard's skin. The substitute groaned and mirrored the gesture before he stopped, furious.

iMine. You're mine.i Those were the only thoughts running through the Espada's head as he rubbed and ground against the human, who was fighting his body every step of the way.

Ichigo tried to protest, but every time he opened his mouth sounds of pleasure and desperation poured forth until he ground his teeth trying to cut off his involuntary vocalizations.

Like a desert drenched with a sudden flood, Grimmjow's mind was swept of all thought until he was buried into the body beneath him. Unusual wetness marked Ichigo's eyes where they only seemed to highlight their heat never damping it. At first the Espada thought they were tears of pain, but as an enraged snarl made its way past barred teeth, Grimmjow knew it was tears of utter rage.

Fury, hatred, rage all of it was impassioned in a way that Grimmjow had never felt, and as he pulled back and slammed into that tight heat he felt his body tighten under the weight of their power.

The anger that he felt with Ichigo wasn't the same as he felt towards Ulquiorra, cold and calculated, or Aizen, the hate of the repressed and cold disinterest of the superior. Their rage burned and threaded them together in a bond closer that Grimmjow had ever experienced.

The bed shook and creaked violently as the Arrancar pressed into the Vizard again and again. The two males vocalizations were reduced to growls, moans, and hardly heard cries as the coupling continued. Ichigo no longer struggled against his bonds to escape, but in an attempt to bring himself closer to the man above him.

Suddenly Grimmjow felt his lungs compressing, despite the restrains on the human below him, his spiritual pressure was rising in a stifling wave. The Espada collapsed on the body beneath him and heard rather than saw the other's restraints break. Pleasure was still flooding his frame as he was pressed into the body beneath him, but he started to panic as the pressure continued.

He felt trapped in the oppressive presence, struggling and flaring his own power uncontrollably as his more animal nature protested the confinement. Suddenly it stopped. Opening his eyes, the Arrancar saw the clinical whiteness of his ceiling, not the powerful body of his Soul Reaper.

As his mind cleared Grimmjow cursed, Aizen's signal for the meeting of his Espada had wrenched him from another pleasant dream. About to sit up, he gasped as he felt the sheets move over his erection.

Laying back down Grimmjow let images of Ichigo, screaming his name in rage and pleasure as he made the Soul Reaper his, drench his senses until he reached completion.

* * *

Leaning against a sandy colored rock Shinji watched as blood slowly painted their underground training area. Kensei appeared in front of the lounging blond. "That fucking brat, I'm going to have to get Hitachi to heal these wounds."

Turning from Love and Rose battling Ichigo, the former captain looked at the silvered headed man, long cuts littered his torso and sweat beaded his body.

With a surprised expression Shinji pointed to a burned patch of skin, and questioned his fellow Vizard, "Cero?"

Snorting the man answered, "No. One of his Getsuga Tenshō. That one would have taken my hand off if I had been any slower."

Kensei watched as Ichigo violently swung at the two former captains with little technique, but with his immense reserves of spiritual pressure behind each blow.

"Shinji, you do know you'll have stop him? He's wearing out the rest of us, and we can't battle him forever and not seriously hurt the kid."

The unofficial leader of the Vizards closed his eyes, "I know what I have to do. For now though, this is what he needs."

Remaining silent the former captain of the ninth sat down next to Shinji and hoped that the man next to him knew what he was doing, for the sake of their young comrade.

* * *

Ichigo barely noticed when one opponent was exchanged for another, or two. Rage boiled in his veins, lesser Soul Reapers would have crumbled from the spirit pressure he was putting out, but those that Ichigo faced had been tempered in flames that would have turned those around them to ash. Their resolve never weakened, they would weather him like they would any natural calamity.

They understood the fight subrogating his hollow was finished, but the battle that would define who Ichigo was had yet to be resolved. All the Vizards could do was bear the harsh bite of his sword, support him how they could, and hope that what returned to them was more human than monster.

* * *

With Rukia watching Renji and Ichigo occupying the Vizard, Urahara decided that it was finally time to get the answers to questions that had been haunting him for the last couple of months. Before he set off for his trip across town, Urahara slipped on his newest spirit pressure-concealing device, a small silver ring. Within minuets he landed lightly outside of his student's place of residence and, unusually for a Shinigami, he knocked on the door.

Before the door fully opened a professional and slightly annoyed voice rang out, "We're closed right now, so unless it's an emergency…" Isshin broke off his well-practiced spiel, his face morphing from a friendly smile to a solemn scowl, reminiscent of his only son, as he recognized his visitor.

Leaving his door open the man retreated further into his house, leaving the shopkeeper to follow. Urahara took his time in removing his geta at the entryway, not eager to delve right into the task that awaited him. When he made his way into the main room he found Isshin staring at a picture of his wife, not the large poster proudly displayed on the wall, but a small framed photograph. It showed a tired but laughing Masaki and a slightly frazzled Isshin who was holding a howling and bright orange bundle.

While the former twelfth division captain had known Isshin for only a short time they had grown close quickly. Moving from the Soul Society to the living world was enormous change to almost aspects of life, and they had found in each other a common understanding that had cemented their fast friendship.

Isshin had fit in with the human world, helped along with his love for Masaki and the children they begun to raise, in a way Urahara never could. He had never really felt the same connection that his friend had to the living world with so much of his life still tied to his old home.

But the father had helped rid him of the loneliness he often carried that even Yoruichi at times couldn't dispel. That had all changed with Masaki's death. The other man retreated into raising his family and running his clinic. Urahara understood that such things left little time to hang out with old friends that brought painful memories, but a small part of him still hurt that he had been so thoroughly dismissed from his friend's life.

For years Urahara had remained a respectful distance from the family while keeping an eye out for further danger that might have found them. With Isshin so obviously wanting to stay away from anything non-human, hollow or Soul Reaper, the former captain had no reason to intrude into their lives until that fateful night when Soul Society finally made contact with Ichigo.

Surprise and then anger had tainted his view of his old friend as Ichigo's involvement in the world of the Shinigami increased and he failed to come forward with his own secret.

After Ichigo's latest brush with danger, untamable rage now flooded Urahara's mind when he thought of Isshin's lack of action in protecting his own son from such innocence crushing battles.

No matter how hard Urahara wished, he couldn't take care of Ichigo like someone his age deserved. When it came down to it, Ichigo was his only chance to stop Aizen from destroying everything that he held dear. Despite how much he wanted to protect that strong willed, brave, and loving boy from the harsh reality that was war, he couldn't.

While he couldn't shelter and comfort his student, his father could take that coveted, desired and dearly wanted role. With every battle, every increase in the father and son's power, with every further threat from Soul Society Urahara waited for the man to step up and take his role.

But the only thing that Isshin did was to protect his son's body and to avenge the spirit of his long dead wife, all with his son's slowly corrupting spirit fighting across town.

His time for waiting was over. He would no longer stand in the shadows when the one person that could offer Ichigo unconditional comfort was right next to him, failing to raise a hand to protect his own son.

"Do you even know what happened in your son's last fight?"

Isshin didn't respond, he just kept staring at that glass incased memory.

Not caring of the other's sensitivity he went on, "He went to fight an Arrancar, with hardly any spirit pressure."

The dark haired man was shaking, "He wouldn't…"

"If he had any other choice you would be right, but he didn't. Neither did we."

Wanting to rage; Urahara held himself together, "Ichigo will find out one day, no matter what you do. You might want to make sure he does before he's dead."

He knew coming here that nothing was likely to change, and when the silence stretched into minutes, the shopkeeper tried one last time, "Just tell me why? Do you hate us all that much?"

He couldn't keep the pain that stayed chained in his heart from bleeding through and he saw the other flinch, "No, I don't… I… I just can't."

With the other's admission he didn't trust himself to not hurt the doctor. Ichigo deserved the truth and his father was one of the few people that could give it to him without putting the whole world in danger. No matter what Isshin felt, he had no right to deny his son the knowledge of his existence.

Unable to stand the sight of his former friend Urahara quickly left, hurriedly sliding back on his geta and flash stepping out to the city limits.

Isshin felt the shopkeeper's exit as he stared down at the photo cradled in his hands. No matter how much he wanted to stop lying to his son he couldn't bear the hatred and the blame he would see in Ichigo's eyes. The possibility of losing another member of his family was too much for Isshin too bear.

Hearing one of his daughters coming down stairs, the former Shinigami once again slipped into the role of idiot father, while praying that he could find a way to keep his family whole.

* * *

This is what he was made to do. To fight and fight and fight, till his blade lay broken and the throats were torn out of all that opposed him. Karakura Town was his territory, his home. Those that trespassed on his home, his heart, would feel the bite of his blade and submit to his power. Ichigo didn't notice his slow descent into pure instinct, it was a welcome relief from his buzzing brain and he instinctively did what he could to slink into its mind-numbing grip.

Looking at the bloody frame of their youngest Vizard, Shinji slowly pulled himself to his feet. Currents of fear, anger, frustration, and sorrows were sweeping the training ground almost tangible in their intensity.

It was finally time the former captain could step in and help to calm the storm that was his young student's heart.

TBC


End file.
